Corpsman, Up!
by Hirilnin
Summary: This is an AU story that spans the First Age of Arda and the 5th Age of Man.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Aule stood quietly before the Valar at Mahanaxar. The center of judgment, usually reserved for the firstborn, was now held for him. He looked up to his seat and saw his wife sitting beside it quietly. He looked at the sorrow in her eyes, the pain of knowing that judgment would be fulfilled soon. His impetuousness, 'impatience' as Yavanna called it, was folly again.

Sweet Iluvatar, he thought, let my brother understand and have mercy.

Manwe looked at the Vala before him. He saw the silent strength and understood the compassion his brother had, but this was too much – meddling in the affairs of Arda reborn – the age of Men, was forbidden by Iluvatar himself. Taking a breath, he stared at his brother before he began.

"Aule, you are here today because you have interfered in the course of a human's life. The One Being, himself, has decreed that the fifth age of man was not to be disturbed by the Valar. We are to watch and report on man's development and prepare for the time of the last song. You were given grace when you created the dwarves, and we held hope when you fought against Melkor and assisted the Noldor's return to Arda, but this last incident has created an uproar and disturbed the balance of the Great Song. Why, my brother have you disobeyed the Great One?" he asked, painfully, slowly, as if fearing the answer.

"Brother, I had no choice. It was by my hand that Melkor destroyed Eregion and the Firstborn, and I could do nothing except save a few Noldor children. One child, alone, carried the legacy of the great artisans from Eregion – I could not allow him to die, and then I learned that his father had survived, but they were separated. This child was the victim of Melkor's minion, Sauron. His destiny was not meant to be written such as it was. The human's destiny is tied to the Firstborn, for they are related. You also know that it was my children, the ones that Iluvatar had taught, that were divided and fought against the Firstborn in the first age, and allied themselves to the Firstborn in the Third Age. In my folly, I created them, for I so dearly wanted children to love, and now in my folly I had mercy upon one who was born out of her time. Her birth was unforeseen and would have jeopardized the last age of man had I not interfered; but I did not do it for my glory, I meant only to unite a house long divided. My brother, I seek your forgiveness for acting without your consent, and I beg the forgiveness of Iluvatar for my rash actions."

Manwe and the Valar sat and reflected upon the deeds of Aule. Once again, he had acted rashly, but yet, his motives were pure. He did not act out of malice or ambition, but still, there had to be consequences. A human, no peredhel, being sent back to Arda of old was unacceptable, yet she could not be punished for the stupidity of his brother's sentiments. Her existence created difficulties with the choice given to the children of Earendil. This child of the two races would need to be given the choice between the Grace of the Eldar and the Gift of Man; but Aule had not considered this. Ultimately, the Great Song was changed, and the consequences could be detrimental to the destinies of the First Born. For the first time in all of his existence, he, Manwe, first of the Valar, felt a headache. 'This is what Elrond Peredhel suffers,' he mused.

"Aule, you will wait here for our return. We will deliberate in private." Saying this, Manwe and the other Ainur faded from their chairs and went to the Enchanted Isles to speak freely. Eonwe stood before the Vala and smiled, waiting for his liege to return.

Earendil crossed the sky three times and Ithil rose quietly to watch over the Vala as he awaited his brethren and sisters' return. Finally, on the fourth rise of Anor, they returned without fanfare and sat upon their chairs. Yavanna rose and walked to her husband, taking his hand silently as a lone tear slid down her face.

Manwe stood and the sky darkened considerably. "Aule, my brother, after much deliberation and consideration of not only your actions, but the fate of Arda, we have decided your fate. Our judgment is tempered by the fact that you acted in mercy, but we are still in the position that you did not consider the free will of the life you have affected. We hold you responsible for this life, and decree that you must atone for your actions by living on Arda as one of the Atani until you find the lost eldar that fathered this peredhel. You will not have the Gift of Man, and neither blade nor illness will affect you. When you find the lost Eldar and he willingly returns to Aman, this judgment will be lifted and you will be free to resume your place amongst us."

Looking at Yavanna, the serene, Manwe addressed her next. "My sister, you are wife to Aule. I neither hold you in judgment nor condemn you to his fate, but I ask you, do you wish to have the opportunity to visit him once per yen?"

"I would agree to this fate, my Lord. I would visit him with your grace and blessing once per yen."

"Then so be it, as it is sung in the Great Song, let it be done according to Iluvatar's will."


	2. Sailing

Sedilwen stood silently on the deck of the white ship – looking over the ocean and scanning the horizon. The wind buffeted around her, lifting her hair and causing it to fly randomly in the air. Feeling a presence, she turned and looked up into the smile of the blond elf, Lord Elrond's captain.

"You are spending too much time here, Sedilwen. Are you well?" he asked gently.

"Aye, Glorfindel, I am. I am lost in my memories, nothing more. It has been a long time for me, my friend. My perception of time is different than yours."

Glorfindel considered the mystery that surrounded his friend. She was an enigma. He knew from Elrond and Erestor that she was of Arda remade, but he didn't know the details, and had only asked once. He waited patiently and was rewarded when she continued.

"I remember coming to Arda, my death, and the acceptance that the elves have given me. At one point, I did not believe in such fantasy stories, and yet, for the many yeni, I have lived in them. It is amazing to me that I was given this chance by the Valar."

"Ah, the sea brings about this time of reminiscence. We have spoken many times of your life, but I have never asked you one question. Why Erestor? Why do you hold such loyalty and allegiance to him? Why have you protected him, oft times with your own life?"

"Are you really sure that you want to know that answer, Mellon-nin? Sometimes things are better left unspoken," she answered quietly.

"Do you love him?" His question stretched into a long uncomfortable silence. Sedilwen looked up at him and saw the tenseness of his jaw. _Dear Valar, he was worried about this, but it didn't feel like jealousy. Concern?_

"With my heart and soul, but not for the reasons that most would think," she finally offered, breaking the silence.

"Then how?" he asked quietly, patiently trying to understand her allegiance.

"He is my brother."

The words struck his heart with simplicity. He looked at her, his mouth agape at her confession. By the Valar, he could see the resemblance and suddenly everything became clear to him. Her quietness, reluctance to socialize, affinity for books, ability to argue even a warg out of a fresh kill; everything. She was a female Erestor. The Valar truly had a sense of humor.

"Sedilwen, you have never told me your story about how you came to Arda. I once asked Erestor and Elrond, but both told me that it was your story to tell. Would you share it now with me?"

She looked up at him and stared at his blue – gray eyes. They were so intense, yet full of curiosity. Smiling, she shook her head. "Glorfindel, my life started with my death. I was in a battle – in the far distant future, where the age of man was at peril. I remember hearing the words, 'Corpsman up.' This is the battle cry for healers to assist warriors that are wounded…"

"Corpsman, Up!" The words resounded in Kate's ears. She glanced in the direction and saw one of the marines laying on the battlefield…his hands covering his abdomen and his moans coming toward her over the metallic rhythm of rifle fire.

This was not what it was supposed to be like…the reserves were, well…they were supposed to be an easy way to make money and go to school…they weren't supposed to take someone, anyone, to the hell of a battlefield. Never in a million years had she anticipated that she would actually have to do anything outside of drills. She shook her head…yep, one weekend a month and two weeks out of a year…um hmm…the recruiter was a lying piece of bovine excrement…but in all actuality, she did know it was a possibility…she wasn't that naïve…but the probability had seemed low when she signed on. _Kate, what have you gotten yourself into?_

Shifting her attention back to the scene in front of her, she crept low to the man on the ground…her desert camos helping her to blend with the sand…not that it much mattered…anything that was laying on the ground was an easy target…the open desert offered little protection from stray bullets, creepy crawlies with stingers, and IEDs. One never knew what surprises the sand held.

She looked down into the man's eyes and was surprised at the depth and color that stared back at her. They were blue, like her own… "Ma'am…Leave me, Ma'am. It's too late for me," he whispered.

"Nonsense, marine…it is never too late. Let's see what you caught out here…perhaps a nasty little round?" Kate cut the material away from his abdomen and noted that the entry wound was small. There wasn't much blood, but his stomach was starting to distend. "Yep, stay with me, marine…you win the prize for catching the round of the day." Kate looked at him and saw him try to smile at her poor attempts at battlefield humor. She pulled out an auto syringe and hit him with a round of morphine before she attempted to move him back to the safety of her small trench. When his eyes glazed over, she knew that the painkiller was working; and she slowly began the long pull backwards.

It was funny in a way…he was tall, probably near 7 feet if he were an inch, and had a solid frame, but he was almost too light… and the pulling was fairly easy. She glanced back and saw that she had reached the halfway point. Encouraged, she continued her efforts until she heard the whine of the missile. It was too loud for her comfort…and it was coming closer. Seconds seemed like eternity…and she did in a split second what her instincts told her to do…she rolled onto the marine whose life she was trying to save…

Kate felt a strong shove and heard an explosion, before she knew she was hit. It was strange, but there was no pain…no sensation at all…she just looked down and laughed in shock to see that her feet and legs were doing a curious sort of dance about five feet from her body. She looked at the marine and locked eyes with him before he smiled sadly. "The Valar will guide you." he whispered. And then there was silence, as her eyes closed for the last time on Earth.

Kate heard the sounds of battle raging around her…the cries of anger and screams of pain overwhelmed her. She opened her eyes and saw a surreal picture of a feudal battle, medieval, complete with monsters and warriors…men and something else…beautiful beings that positively glowed with light. She tried to move and found that she was weighted down, covered by a grotesque being that smelled worse than death itself. Its yellow eyes open to a vacant stare, and its rotted moth open in a silent eternal scream…

She looked about and saw many such creatures lying down, and many other creatures…short, stubby little beings with long beards, men, and some of the creatures that seemed to glow. They were all either dead, dying, or too injured to fight any longer. She was sickened by the sheer, utter devastation of life that was before her…her mind began to close down as the reality of where she was and wasn't began to dawn on her. The memories of her recent death flooded over her…and the realization that she was in Hell brought her a strange sense of solace…_at least there is an afterlife, and I exist._

Her reflections were cut short when she saw a dark haired warrior fall before her, clutching his abdomen in shock as one of the little stubby beings finished a stroke with a battle-ax from his midsection. She heard the red bearded creature yell in victory, "Elves be damned…the Lord Sauron shall win this day over Gil-Galad and Elendil!" It was amazing to hear the deep Scottish brogue eminating from this ugly little creature as he ran off towards another of the fair beings.

Time seemed to stand still as Kate looked over to the tall being now lying prone on the ground. Her eyes locked with his and he gasped in surprise to see her staring at him. Slowly he shook his head and whispered something incomprehensible. She crawled over to him with a sense of deja vu and reached toward his mid-section. The armor he wore was neatly cleaved in two and she could see his hands holding his mid-section together. Gently she took them in her own and examined the wound…Shaking her head, she knew that this type of wound was not one that he would likely recover from, more than likely he would suffer a slow death. She looked into his eyes and smiled gently to comfort him. Again that feeling of Déjà vu washed over her, it was like she knew this being – but never had she seen him before.

She assessed the situation, realizing in an instant that she didn't have her kit with her…and musing why she would…she was dead after all…people didn't take belongings into the afterlife. Noting that she still wore her uniform, she was surprised to see that she still had her belt kit. Instinctively, she reached down for an auto-syringe and felt the last one slip into her palm. Without a second thought, she activated the syringe and administered the morphine to the being in front of her.

Erestor hissed at the sudden pain in his leg. He didn't understand how or why an elleth would be on the battlefield outside of Mordor, and why she was dressed as an ellon in the strange, light brown clothes. He looked about sadly for his friend, the herald to his king, …and was disappointed and worried that he was no where in sight. The last he knew, the peredhel was focused on fighting Sauron and protecting the Noldor king. He looked back to the elleth and asked her why she was there. When she didn't reply, he tried to move and was rewarded with blurred vision as she gently pushed him down. He watched her as she took out a cloth packet from her pocket, and began to laugh quietly when he saw her remove a needle and thread as she prepared to sew his stomach. _I hope she is a good seamstress…_

Kate watched as the morphine took hold of this being. She didn't understand him when he spoke to her…the language was musical, but very different from any language she had ever heard. When he started to laugh, she knew that the effects of the drug had reached their peak, and she began to stitch his abdomen. His eyes closed after a few minutes, and he seemed to slip into a deep sleep. Kate knew that the chance of infection was almost 100%, but if they survived this battle, he could be re-opened in better conditions and re-treated as necessary.

Concentrating fully on her patient, Kate was oblivious to the battle around her. She knew that saving this…this being… was imperative. She didn't know or care why, she just knew that it had to be this way. In her thoughts, even Hell had rules. She worked quickly and closed the wound with large clumsy sutures – and then thought about a battlefield dressing. She didn't have anything remotely sterile or appropriate, and so, making a quick decision, she opted to use her BDU jacket. After unhooking her belt, she quickly slipped out of the garment and wrest it into two pieces. The first she turned inside out and folded quickly into a pillow bandage. She did the same with the second and then released the extra length on her webbed belt to accommodate the wider waist of the man / being in front of her. As she finished cinching the belt, she felt an extraordinary pain tear through her right shoulder.

_Since when do dead people feel pain? _She mused. Looking down, she saw the point of an arrow protruding from her upper chest. _Amazing…_ Then her vision dimmed for the second time in one day and she fell forward onto the being she had just saved.

Elrond returned to the camp, exhausted and defeated. His brother's heir had betrayed them all. His King was dead. And he reeked of blood and sweat. Many elves had given their lives this day…for naught. Isildur had failed…he succumbed to the evil of the Ring…Elrond rued the day that he made the promise to his brother…the promise to protect all of Elros' descendents. So great was his anger, had Elrond not made that promise, he would have personally thrown Isildur into the fire of Orodruin. At this moment, he cursed his bittersweet human heritage. And thus, the herald of the Second Age of Arda began with Man's betrayal of the Elves.

Giving into his exhaustion, Elrond sat near one of the boulders and leaned back, slipping almost immediately into reverie. His mind was filled with terrible images of the battle he just finished…he woke when he revisited Gil-Galad's death. His foster father, his King, his friend…the one elf who restored his spirit and gave him life after his keeping with Maglor was slain in battle…for now, his grief overwhelmed him and his relief at waking was short lived. Grimly he watched as survivors were helped or carried into camp. The healers were drenched in blood and seemed to have a vacant look in their eyes. Their patients' misery and pain were reflected in their eyes, and they seemed to move quietly from one elf to the next – rendering what little palliative care they could before the majority passed to Mandos' Halls. One of the healers moved to the newest arrivals and looked upon a dark haired Noldor. He shook his head and began to gesture excitedly to his apprentice as he looked between the Noldor and another elf laying two stretchers away.

Sensing something amiss, Elrond rose wearily and walked slowly to the healers. "My friends, what is this that concerns you?"

"Master Elrond," the healer began, "the Lord Erestor has been gravely injured, but survives because of the efforts of this elfling." Gesturing toward the stretcher that Kate laid upon, the healer continued in amazement. "No one knows who she is or why she was in battle…but all agree that she saved Lord Erestor's life by tending his wounds. When they were found, she was laying on top of him, shielding his body with her own."

Elrond looked at his friend and examined his wound. The Noldor had been gutted from hip bone to hip bone, and sewn with a curious type of thread. He looked in amazement at the stitches and realized that the strange elfling had some training in the healing arts…but his curiosity was piqued by the mystery of how and why she was in the battlefield. Turning toward her, he noted that she was wearing a strange pair of leggings with a tight-fitting, sleeveless under-tunic. Aside from her clothes, he noticed that her hair was strangely fastened to her head and she had ears like his…pointed, but not so distinct as those of the Firstborn. She was lying on her stomach, with an arrow shaft protruding from her shoulder…and her color was an ashen gray. By all measures, Elrond knew that she was fading quickly.

"I will tend to her, Istuil…please get me some yarrow root and water. I want to take the arrow out and clean the injuries on both the youngling and Lord Erestor." Working quickly, he gently rolled her to her side and noted that the arrow had shattered her shoulder. Thanking the Valar for this small blessing, he grabbed the shaft and pushed it quickly through the front. Changing his grip, he snapped the back of the shaft in his hands and quickly pulled the remainder out through the front, then surveyed the damage. Thankfully, this one wasn't poisoned and the wound looked fairly clean. Quickly, he stemmed the flow of blood and examined the damage to the bone, now exposed. Thankfully, it was in three pieces and there were no shards – so healing would be much quicker and she would have full use of her arm later. As he looked down at her, he pondered why one so young was on the battlefield and where she had come from.

Elrond quietly mused on this as he reset the bones into place and cleaned the wound. Carefully he placed her stitches and bandaged her, before he turned his attention to Erestor. Lord Erestor, the young ellon who survived the massacre of his people… the warrior that most ellon feared, laid quietly upon the stretcher, blissfully unaware of his surroundings. Elrond studied the ellon's lack of responses as he removed the bandages, it was almost as if he had been given the crushed sleeping seeds – poppy, as his brother's people called it….but that was impossible out here. Such drugs were long depleted in the great war.

Grimly, he removed the bandage and stared at the stitches across the elf's stomach. Although they were done hurriedly, he could see that they were neat and even… He extended his hand and let his fea "feel" the severity of damage. After a few moments, Elrond decided to leave the wound closed and use their herbs to boost the elf's immunity to infection. Time would tell whether this choice was good, but time was what they all had now that Sauron had been defeated.


	3. Waking to the Elves

Chapter 3

Waking to the elves

Dimly, Kate heard the sing-song voices creeping into her level of consciousness. She heard the masculine tones speaking around her and painfully opened her eyes. The light bore into them as she tried to turn her head away. As she began to move, she felt a hand hold her down and a voice spoke quietly to her, or at least she thought it was speaking to her. She opened her eyes again and painfully focused on a pair of piercing gray eyes. The voice that matched the eyes was not harsh, but she could sense the authoritative tone that demanded obedience from her, even though she could not understand the words. Nodding her head, she quit trying to move and laid quietly on the bed. When she ceased her struggle, the man smiled at her and nodded before he gently began to poke at her shoulder.

Light seemed to explode around her and her body began to jerk involuntarily at the pain that was coursing through her back and ricocheting into her stomach. She began to scream as the pain overwhelmed her senses and futilely began trying to push or pull away from him. She didn't care where she went, she just needed to get away. Away from the agony that seemed to drown her.

Elrond watched as the elfling began screaming and fighting against the pain. It was not uncommon for the wounded to wake thusly on the battlefield, but he was unprepared for the sheer terror and agony that washed over him empathically. Nodding to the other healers that were watching, he waited until they approached, and then he supervised as they gently restrained her against the cot. Kneeling down, he placed his hand over her eyes and whispered a sleep spell that pushed her into unconsciousness. When he felt her consciousness depart, he noted her muscles relaxing and knew that he could examine her without causing her more pain.

He removed the bandages and noted that she had torn most of her stitches in the struggle. Sighing, he pulled out pieces and began to close her wound again. "Istuil, I think that we should have someone sit with her, for when she wakes up again. If she pulls these stitches out again, I will not be able to close her without leaving a large scar."

"She is very small, Elrond. How old do you think that she is?" the older healer asked, curiously.

"I do not think that she has seen more than 40 summers; and I am curious as to how and where she has learned her healing skills. Did you perchance, have the opportunity to see Lord Erestor's stomach? I find it remarkable that her stitches were so neat, considering she put them in on a battlefield. She medicated him with drugs that are impossible to find on this side of Arda, and I have never seen the manner of dressing that she employed, but it was very effective to keeping his wound clean. She is most definitely a mystery."

Istuil and Elrond studied the girl for a few more moments. She was an enigma to them, and both had many questions that needed to be answered. Perhaps the most important question was who she was. As far as Elrond knew, he and his brother were the only peredhel in Arda, yet this girl was undeniably a mixture of the First and Second born. He knew and dealt with the prejudices of the First Born as he, himself, had come to age; thus it was a surprise to him that another should come from mixed parentage.

Kate felt her pain slip away as she felt the warm, peaceful darkness envelop her. The man's words were strangely comforting to her, and she felt a strange heat envelop her as he spoke them.

As she fell further into the strange sleep, she relived her dream and saw the dark haired man being cleaved again across the mid-section. He seemed familiar to her, like he was a part of her or she was a part of him, and although she didn't know why, she knew that he would be important in her strange after-death life.

Kate heard someone calling her name, softly at first, and then with more and more authority. Finally she was touched on her shoulder and she opened her eyes to look at the tall marine, who had died with her on the battlefield.

"Kate McAdams, you must wake up. We need to talk," his deep voice insisted.

She looked at him confused. "Aren't you dead?" she finally asked.

He smiled at her before answering. "Nay child, I am not dead. I was there to guide you, when you met your first destiny."

"Then I am dead," she confirmed. "Is this Heaven or Hell, because my Sunday School teacher never taught me about dead people being killed again in their afterlives."

"You are dead to the world you were raised in, Kate. I brought you to the Arda of the First Age, long before the time when you were born."

"I don't understand. Are you telling me that you brought me back to life in the past?"

"Yes, child," he answered simply. "I brought you back, because you were born into the wrong time period. You are born of two races; the race of the Eldar, which should not exist in the Fifth Age, and the race of Man. You were not meant to live or die in the time that you were in."

She looked at him, trying to understand if he got into her morphine while she was sleeping. "Why do you call me 'child' and who are you?" she asked quietly, hoping that she could understand his state of mind a little better.

"Kate McAdams, I am Aule, one of the singers in the Great Song. My brothers and sisters created the race of the Eldar and the Race of Man under the direction and guidance of Eru Illuvatar. He is the Great One, or Creator of all. You know Him simply as God, and we, the Valar, His children, have been lost in the mythology of Men. I call you a child, because to me, you are one. I have existed for many thousands of years, and you have not even seen the age of twenty two."

She looked into his rich, brown eyes and felt, no, knew that he was telling her the truth. Sitting up, she looked around and noticed the room she was in for the first time. Her bed was absolutely huge, as if it were made for someone much larger than her; and the walls were a gentle white color with a type of pearlescent glaze that carried hints of muted pastels. She studied the walls a bit longer and noted that they seemed to be of a carved stone, like marble. There were no windows or visible light sources that she could discern, but the room was well lit and warm. And if the truth were to be told, the bed was very comfortable.

"Where are we?" she asked, hoping that he would tell her this was a dream.

"Yes, Kate," he offered, answering her unvoiced question. "This is a dream and your fea, your soul and consciousness if you will call them that, are in my hall. I brought you here to help you understand why these things are happening.

First, I brought you back to this time so that you could live the life that you were supposed to be born to. Your father is an elf – one born to the kind of beings that your body is with now. He was not meant to be in the future of Arda, nor was he meant to father you with a daughter of man. Your true mother died in birth, and you were adopted by a family that I had chosen. Over time, I watched you grow into the young woman that you have become. But in my folly, I did not consider the consequences of the Great Song and your free will.

When you died in your timeline, I brought you here; where you could have a chance to live with your brother – the son of your father. The brother you were supposed to know many years in an earlier timeline. This is the ellon or elf that you saved in the battle. He does not know that you are his sister, but when the time is appropriate, my brother or I will tell him. When you awaken, you will live among the elves and become acquainted with their world."

Kate stared at him, feeling very lost. In a matter of a few seconds, she learned that her whole life had been a lie, and she had a brother. She, who was an only child, now had a brother who was a mythical elf, no _ellon_. Shaking her head, she fell back against the pillows. As she pondered his explanation, she felt herself getting angry. Very angry. This being had controlled and interfered in her whole life. And for what? Why?

"What kind of an ass are you?" she sniped at him, after she caught her breath. "Who gave you the right to play God in my life? I didn't ask for any of this, and you just nonchalantly tell me that I have a brother, I saved his life, and I am going to live with him now. Are you going to mess with his life too? What if he doesn't want a sister? Did you think of this? What am I? Am I an ellon? What makes you think that these people are going to accept me – a stranger to their world and their ways?

Aule looked down upon his charge, feeling and welcoming her wrath. 'She definitely had spirit, and would need it,' he mused. Looking down at her, he knew that she would need time. "Peace child, I know that you are angry, but all will work out in the end. You must rest now and return to Arda."

Kate saw, or rather felt her consciousness shimmer and then she closed her eyes to rest. Her last thought was that one day she would kick this ever loving Vala to kingdom come for interfering in her life.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Recovering

After he had washed and eaten his dinner, Elrond returned to the healing tent. With all of his patients sleeping, he decided to sit and watch the elfing sleep for a while. Istuil joined him and they spoke quietly, exploring the possibilities of how she could have come to a battlefield. Both elves settled onto makeshift stools and studied her petite features and darker complexion.

"Master Elrond, she bears a resemblance to the Noldor, but she also looks like she is of the second born. Her bone structure suggests that she is a daughter of men, but her features are decidedly elven. I would dare say that she even looks like Lord Erestor around her jawline, but I do not know how this could be possible."

"Aye, she looks as if she is of mixed blood; but I am curious as to how. The Valar have only blessed the unions of my forebearers to bring about my brother and me. You are right though, my friend, she does bear resemblance to the Noldor, and even to Lord Erestor."

Istuil thought for a few moments, before voicing his concerns. "How do you think she came to be in the middle of this battle? She did not act as a spy would, nor do I think that she is old enough to be a spy. Certainly, the warriors and men would have noticed a child in their ranks. I am also curious as to her clothing, as no self-respecting elleth or daughter of man would be dressed thusly, and where did she learn the healing arts that she possesses?"

Elrond looked at his friend sharply for a moment, memories of his own past washing over him. "You bring up the same questions that I ponder, my friend. Her existence is a mystery that only the Valar can answer – for I feel that the answer indeed lies with them.

Given that she is of mixed parentage, she will undoubtedly have skills at a younger age than most elves. Well I remember my own past, living between two worlds and never quite fitting into either. My brother and I had the early maturity of men, but the physical grace of elves as we moved from elflings to adults. I fear it is the same with this one as well."

"My apologies, Master Elrond. I did not mean to question you or your noble heritage. I simply do not understand how the aging of peredhel occurs. Have you any idea about what we are going to do with her? We are leagues from any enclaves, and there are not many ellyth around to help with her. We can not even properly attire her."

Elrond smiled briefly. "No offense taken, my friend. Given that there are no other resources available, I would feel the responsibility to care for her. I do not think that she would fare well with other elves at this point; she does not even seem to know our language, nor do I think that it would be fair to leave her in Cirdan's or Gildor's care, excellent as both options may be."

Kate woke to soft rustling sounds moving about her. Opening her eyes, she noted that one of the elves was leaving the tent. She studied the room intently and sighed when her eyes fell upon the elf that was supposed to be her brother. He was two cots over from her and seemed to be resting well. Makeshift medical tents were all the same, and at least she understood them and their makeup.

As she further studied her environment, she noted two things. First, her entire shoulder was bound tightly with some sort of gauze, the second was that she wasn't wearing anything that was even remotely appropriate to moving around in. Her BDU's were gone and replaced with a large type of simple shirt. Testing her arm, she found that her mobility on that side was completely restricted.

Memories of the dark haired man, _elf_, rushed back upon her. He seemed to be in authority, and brooked no opposition when it came to examining her. She could tell that he tried to be gentle, but the pain was excruciating when his fingers probed her wound. As she remembered the pain from before, she became aware of the throbbing in her shoulder. It was worse than any pain she had ever felt – far worse from the pain she had when she broke her leg, at twelve.

Kate was brought back to present when she heard her new brother moan. He moved his head slightly and was beginning to come back to consciousness. She looked around and seeing no one in attendance, knew that he would wake alone. It was agony to sit up, but somehow she maneuvered herself up and wavered a bit before getting her strength. The pain in her shoulder moved from throbbing to sheer agony, and although she didn't cry out, the tears fell easily and silently from her eyes. Slowly and methodically she stood, before she staggered the five steps to his cot. She looked at him as she sank to the ground, and rested a few moments before taking his hand.

"Be still, brother. I don't know you, but I know that we are family," she whispered, as she touched her head to his hand. After a few minutes, she looked up and met his deep brown eyes with her own blue set.

Erestor woke up to the soft whisper of a voice, and stared into the eyes of a young elleth. _Elleth?_ He felt a feeling of familiarity with her, and then realized that this was the same elleth that helped him after he was nearly cleaved in two by the accursed dwarf. He looked down briefly and saw that his legs and hips were still attached to his trunk, so all was well; but the pain was nearing intolerable. He tried to speak to her, but all that came out was a raspy whisper, "Thank… you…"

Kate started at the rasp he made. He sounded very hoarse, but was it from pain or from lack of water, she wondered. Looking about, she saw a small urn of water on the table and reached for it. Using her good hand, she was able to maneuver a cup into the vicinity of the spout, and she poured a small bit for him. She bit back a cry when her shoulder protested, but she continued and lifted the cup to his mouth. He seemed eager to drink, then nodded gratefully as she poured it very slowly into his mouth. When he was done, he nodded again.

Erestor wondered who the young elleth was. He didn't really think that she was pretty or stunning – instead, she seemed to be a bit plain. Looking at her, he contemplated that her hair was dark and her features were very angular, but surprisingly, her eyes were blue. All in all, she didn't have the daintiness that was normally attributed to ellyth, but he could see gentleness and compassion in her eyes. As he tried to talk to her, she seemed surprised; but then reached for some water for him. She winced a bit, and he realized that she also had been wounded in the battle. By the way that she favored her side, he guessed that her shoulder had been injured.

Kate sat with her brother and watched him as he stared up at her. Finally, she smiled and retook his hand into hers. He seemed to settle down quickly and drifted off after a few more minutes. Kate reached for the cup and took a long drink, only to realize that it was not water that she had given the elf. It was a clear liquid that had a slightly bitter taste. With a start, she realized that this was the same medicine that someone had given to her, when she had awoken earlier. Sighing, she reached back to her brother and brushed the hair from his face. She tried to get up, but the pain was too severe, so she sat against the legs of the cot and reflected about her new brother. Would he accept her? Her last thoughts as she drifted off were about that being, Aule, interfering in her life and who her father was.

Istuil hurried back to the tent. He relieved Bregolan for the mid day meal and was a bit irritated that the novice healer did not wait for either him or Master Elrond to come to the tent. When he entered, he peered around and noted that all the patients were resting peacefully – except one. Where was the elfing? Before he could look further, he heard the soft rustle of the tent flap behind him. Hoping and praying to the Valar that it wasn't Master Elrond, he wasn't surprised to find that it was. His luck never held out…

"Istuil, where is our elfling?" he intoned deeply. Looking slowly around the room, Elrond stopped at the sight before him. Curled up to Erestor's cot, the elfling slept peacefully on the ground while still holding the young warrior's hand. The battle-weary warrior in him melted at such a sight of pure innocence as was before him. With all of the horror that his mind endured over the past age, this one precious site would be forever burned into his mind and begin his own recovery – the act of an elfling's love selflessly given to a wounded warrior.

Istuil stood in shock to see the elfing on the ground. What affinity did this elleth hold for Lord Erestor? Blinking away his surprise, he walked over to the warrior and checked his bandages and breathing. He noted that Master Elrond gently carried the elfling back to her bed and examined her as well. Istuil could see that her bandages were askew, and went to retrieve new bandages for both his and Master Elrond's work.

Elrond noted that the elleth's stitches did not pull after her short expedition to Erestor's cot. He thought that it was odd that she didn't wake, until Istuil pointed out that the pain draught was nearly empty and the cup was on the floor. It seemed that she and Erestor had both drank a fair amount without a healer's supervision. He would have to talk to the novice healers about leaving their charges unattended.


	5. Chapter 5

Erestor watched carefully as the masons were setting the middle course of the new bridge. It was only three weeks ago that the recovering warriors had diverted the Bruinen to set the footings for this bridge. Many, including himself, had set aside their swords to embrace the healing that this new dawn of peace brought forth. Lord Elrond both welcomed and encouraged their endeavors in creating their new home. But, he mused, it was designed to be accessible only by way of the bridge. The great cliffs rested behind the main house, and protected the inhabitants by their sheer altitude. Even though there was peace now, it was still prudent to oversee the security of this new realm and potential incursions in the future.

Lord Elrond had created quite a stir among the elven leaders when he refused to accept the throne in the high king's stead; many of the elves respected this decision, but there were a few who considered him weak. After all, his twin had become the first king of men; it should have been his destiny. Only a few, including himself, knew why Elrond had chosen against the throne.

His ponderings were interrupted as he watched the young peredhel approach. She was a quiet child and seemed to be making gains in their language. Her recovery had been as slow and pained as his had been; but unlike the warriors that worked before him, she did not complain as her shoulder had healed. He didn't understand what affinity she had for him, but she had stayed by him as they both recovered, and she was very concerned for his well-being.

Lord Elrond and he had spoken many times about her and her skills, her mixed heritage, where she had come from, and what they would do with her. It was ironic that their decision was made when she had dumped a bowl of gruel over the younger healer's head.

She stopped in front of him and offered him a small package. "You is hungry?" she asked quietly.

Nodding, he gently corrected her, "Yes, Kate. I am hungry. Are you hungry?"

"Yes, I am hungry," she answered as she accepted his correction.

Would you like to share lunch with me?" he asked slowly enough for her to understand.

Kate eagerly accepted and sat down beside him on one of the rock piles. She reached into the pocket of her apron and pulled out a similar package of nuts and berries. Picking daintily over the package, she slowly ate the tart berries first.

Erestor smiled as he watched her. His memories shifted back to the events that led to their fateful decision to bring her to the valley. During his recovery, he was being forced to endure yet another bowl of gruel as the healer spoon fed him. His meal was interrupted as the elfling approached with a bowl of gruel and berries. Waiting patiently, she held the bowl out to the healer and said something to him in her language. In response, the healer had told her to return to her bed and he would tend her in a few minutes. Clearly, neither the healer nor the child understood each other, but she persisted by offering her bowl again to the healer. It was reasonably clear that she wanted him to be fed the berries, and to be truthful, it looked better that what he was presently consuming.

"Bregolan, I think that the elfling is trying to share with me. Please let me try her berries," he pleaded quietly.

"The child is not a healer. Master Istuil has specifically chosen your meals to facilitate your recovery. She is too young to understand the complexities of diet and healing," he dismissed, as waved the child away.

At first, she seemed a bit surprised at the dismissal, but she persisted by saying something again and pointing to Erestor then at her bowl. She was emphatic about the food and even ate a spoonful of it in front of the healer.

Erestor watched as Bregolan was less than patient and put his food down. Turning to the elfling, he stood up and attempted to guide her back to her bed. In a classic contest of wills, she stood there, stared up at the healer and shook her head negatively while arguing with him in her language. It was rather amusing to see her stand up to him, with her eyes flashing; until Bregolan made the fateful mistake of trying to pick her up and carry her to the bed. The elfling narrowed her eyes and with a snap of her wrist dumped the gruel over Bregolan's head and stalked her way over to her cot and sat.

The uproar that ensued was nothing less that total entertainment for all of the bed-ridden patients over the next few minutes. Bregolan stood still for a fraction of a second, then tried to wipe the gruel from his hair as he danced around the tent and roared about impudent elflings needing to be disciplined. The master healer, Istuil, walked in as Bregolan was hopping, and sidestepped quickly as the younger healer fell into a pile of soiled linens. The convalescing warriors chuckled or laughed outright to see the haughty young healer put into his place by an elfling.

"Bregolan, what is the meaning of this chaos?" the healer asked quietly.

"That, that elfling is uncontrollable," he sputtered as he pointed to the cot that the girl sat on. "She is impudent and does not follow directions. And, and, she dumped her bowl of gruel on me."

Istuil surveyed the scene and noted that Erestor was attempting not to laugh and the girl was glaring at the novice healer from her cot. When he caught her attention, she looked at the floor guiltily. "Indeed, she did. Clean yourself, and we will speak later," he directed. When Bregolan had left, he turned his attention to the Noldor lord.

"Lord Erestor, would you enlighten me as to what has occurred in my healing tent?" he asked quietly.

Erestor looked at the healer, then to the elfling on the cot. He watched as her eyes followed Bregolan's departure, and then made contact with his. Nodding to her, he beckoned for her to come to him. When she did, he turned to the healer and recounted the child's efforts to share her gruel with him and Bregolan's responses.

Istuil stood with his arms folded and listened to the young lord's retelling. He pondered this quietly for a moment then directed the child to get her overturned bowl by gesturing and pointing. When she complied, he looked at the reminder of the contents and then the child. Sniffing the bowl, he noted that the gruel had contained berries that were known to aid in healing. Shaking his head, he knew that any explanations as to how she acquired these berries would not be forthcoming. He also knew that she had a sedate disposition, and that she would not have reacted so strongly unless she was provoked; indeed, she was always trying to be helpful and supportive of Lord Erestor and the other patients. He, himself, had observed her rolling bandages on many occasions, and even helping bathe the faces of the more seriously wounded.

She was an enigma, and if the truth were to be known, he was pleased that she had reacted in such a manner. Her reactions showed that she was recovering well and that she shared the sentiments that many of the elves felt towards his novice healer. The only difference was that her youth was an acceptable excuse to tolerate what everyone else had wanted to do to Bregolan for the past few weeks. Keeping up his stern façade, he nodded to Erestor and left to speak with Lord Elrond about the youngling.

Later that evening, Elrond and Erestor spoke at length about Kate. They pondered what her fate would be in the men's encampments, given her lack of ability to communicate. She was a bright child and was eager to please, but the most notable trait that she had was her utter devotion to Erestor. She did not seem to have a young or romantic love; it was more of a filial and protective love toward the Noldor lord. From the time she first protected him on the battlefield up to today's event with Bregolan, she displayed a true affinity for the elder. Reflecting on this information as well as the fact that she was born to mixed parentage, they decided to mutually accept guardianship of her and raise her with the elves. They did not know how long of a lifespan she would be graced with, but they would keep her safe and teach her in the manner of elfkind.

Now, as she sat beside him, he was able to share this simple meal and gauge her happiness. She had settled into her new life with the elves and learned quickly. The youngling rapidly became a favorite of the elves who cooked and the apprentice healers, as she would often do menial tasks to help them. They in turn would help her learn their language and patiently correct her mistakes or strangely accented words. Only he and Lord Elrond knew her true age to be about twenty one summers. To keep peace, they let everyone make their same original assumption that she was in her early forties.


	6. Chapter 6

_Kate felt a strong shove and heard an explosion, before she knew she was hit. It was strange, but there was no pain…no sensation at all…she just looked down and laughed in shock to see that her feet and legs were doing a curious sort of dance about five feet from her body. _

_She tried to move and found that she was weighted down, covered by a grotesque being that smelled worse than death itself. Its yellow eyes open to a vacant stare, and its rotted mouth open in a silent eternal scream…_

_Light seemed to explode around her and her body began to jerk involuntarily at the pain that was coursing through her back. She began to scream as the pain overwhelmed her senses and futilely began trying to push or pull away from him. She didn't care where she went, she just needed to get away. Away from the agony that seemed to drown her._

_Kate heard a voice calling to her, telling her to return to the light. Slowly she grappled with the memories until she recognized Lord Elrond's voice. "Lasto beth nin, Kate. You must leave this place and come home. Come back the light, child. It is a dream. You are safe now."_

"Come back to the light, child. It is a dream. You are safe now," he soothed. With a sigh of relief, he watched as the light came back to her eyes. Although he had touched her mind before to pull her out of these nightmares, he had never seen the horror of her death as he just witnessed it. Fighting his own inner turmoil from entering the shadow world, he took her by the hand and helped her from bed.

"Come penneth. We should get some fresh air and talk of these dreams."

Erestor was exhausted. For the past few months, he had worked with Lord Elrond, both night and day, to establish security for the new safe haven; organizing patrols, assigning squad leaders, lieutenants, and commanders, overseeing the training and conditioning for the elves, and delineating patrol areas and rotation schedules. Cirdan had also sent word that a contingency of elves with a renowned elven warrior would be arriving within a fortnight to settle into Imladris. These preparations were enough for three elves to accomplish, but there simply weren't enough leaders with experience to accomplish this, so it fell to him and Lord Elrond, alone.

With all of the aforementioned duties, Erestor also supervised the masons as they built the supportive structures and retaining walls. This was the curse and legacy of his Noldor father, the ability to work with and understand the properties of stone. Earlier in the evening, he took some time to record the day's progress and work on the plans for the irrigation channels under the house. Lord Elrond had devised a new system of running water and sanitation in the house, and the creation of the plans rested with Erestor.

He didn't know when reverie came upon him, but he did know when it was interrupted.

"Erestor. Erestor! Erestor, you must wake. We have little time," a voice called urgently.

Erestor opened his eyes to see a very tall male elf – one that seemed familiar, though he did not know him. His mind struggled to understand his surroundings and what this being was saying to him.

"Erestor, it is time you learned of your family. Wake child, for your sister needs you."

Erestor peered at this elf and felt his irritation rise. "Who are you, and why do you speak of my sister and family?" he questioned. "They are long dead."

The tall being looked down at Erestor and smiled serenely. "Peace child. I am Manwe, and it is time that you learned the truth…"

Erestor woke in a cold sweat. His heart was racing at the Vala's story; and not just any Vala had chosen to come to him, either, but the leader of the Valar. His mind screamed in shock at the truth that his father was not dead, and that he had a younger sister. Kate. The elfling that nearly died protecting him. The elfling that had been adopted by all of the elves in Imladris. The Kate that would bring him lunch and mended his robe. She was only twenty two summers, it was inconceivable that she could be his sister; but Manwe would not lie. Erestor had been little more than an elfling himself when his family had died, and yet he had a sister that was an elfling. An elfling that had lived in the future of men. The Fifth Age of Men. It was inconceivable to him.

He cried as he had seen her sacrifice and death. Manwe had shown him the terrible future she came from. An elfling should not have seen such a war, let alone been trained or conscripted to serve in it. Elflings should not have their innocence taken in such a fashion. The elves that had fought in the Battle of the Alliance had more honor than to involve elflings. Both Ellyth and elflings were to be cherished and protected, not dredged to a battlefield filled with fear, rage, hate, suffering, and death.

He was angry, so very angry that his father could abandon him. He was still alive in this future Arda. Why had he NEVER tried to find him and raise his son – choosing to let others raise him? How could his father betray his family and his Amme by taking another woman to wife. How could he be so selfish to create another child in such a terrible world as Manwe had shown?

He was numb, he had a sister. A peredhel. She would not hold the gift of man. Manwe told him that she would be graced with the life of the firstborn. His sister was preordained, but ever born into his family due to his father's choices. She had an elven Fea, but the Hroa of a peredhel. It was too much to fathom that she had been born in the wrong time.

He was overjoyed, he had a sister. One who was of his blood. He was no longer alone in Arda.

He was confused. His sister, Kate, was an enigma. She showed maturity far beyond her years, but physically aged in the manner of elves. She was oh, so young, in their eyes – but she had the wisdom and experience of an ellyth who had reached her majority. It was so confusing.

Manwe's caution had resonated within his Fea. The Vala had told him that none were to know, except for the Lord of Imladris. Erestor was to help his sister grow into her destiny, but never reveal to any others what their relationship was. It would change the course of Arda's future, her history, if he did. Only when they sailed for Valinor could they reveal their secret, if they chose.

He felt all of his emotions coalesce into a single emotion. Love. He would protect her. He would be the brother that fate had robbed him of being so long ago.

Gathering his tunic and leggings, he dressed quickly. Erestor had one purpose of mind as he sought out Lord Elrond. His sister.

Kate was sitting in the great hall before the fire, nursing a cup of herbal tea. The memory of her death still lingered in the form of residual pain in her joints, and Lord Elrond knew which herbs would work best. Although he was liberal with the honey, she could still taste the sedative that laced the drink. She was grateful that he understood, and sipped it slowly.

They sat in companionable silence for a time, listening to the sounds of the night, then they began to talk of her dreams and her life in Arda. Kate shared her hopes, dreams and ambitions from her old world and then reflected upon the losses of these with her death. In this world, she was little more than a child, and she pondered aloud how she could fit into the second life that the Valar had given her. It was nearly an hour later before she felt the presence of her brother. He had stood in the doorway, listening. Erestor did not interrupt them, but when she looked into his eyes, she saw that the truth had been revealed to him.

"You know," she said, quietly.

Erestor rushed forward at her voice and wrapped her in his arms. "You are my sister," he sobbed quietly into her shoulder. "I have a sister…"

Elrond watched the two as they sat clinging to each other, crying softly. He was surprised with Erestor's actions and overwhelmed with the news that they were siblings. This would be an interesting story, but not one to indulge in now. For now, he let the two elves take solace in each other.

Later after Erestor took Kate to her room, the two lords sat and discussed this night's revelation. They spoke of Manwe's directive for secrecy and decided that Erestor would tutor her in the mornings. As she became more proficient in Sindarin, she would begin to work with the healers in the afternoon. Finally, to avoid questions, she would keep her own rooms, but be moved next to Erestor in the private wing of rooms where he and Lord Elrond stayed. They decided to keep joint guardianship over her, but given her affinity to Erestor, they would let those that came to Imladris make the assumption that she was his daughter. As they concluded their meeting, Erestor looked to the Elf Lord.

"If she is agreeable, I would give her a new name tomorrow," he ventured cautiously.

Elrond nodded, "What were you thinking, my friend?"

Encouraged, Erestor continued, "Kate McAdams will become the Lady Sedilwen. I can think of no better name, one that is more fitting, than to be known as the 'loyal elleth'."


End file.
